


Siblings

by Ember_in_hAnds



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Canon, Crystal Verse, Gen, Many characters are not mine, Monsters, Regular tag updates, Rp related, Suffering, Swearing, Wyrnia's Void
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:47:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23664868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ember_in_hAnds/pseuds/Ember_in_hAnds
Summary: A living plush appears out of nowhere in the middle of a swamp, in a world where everything seems to be made out of crystal. Scared of what might happen to him, he starts to venture fowards, encountering many unknown people and uncovering a quite complicated story left hanging for years...And even if he is unaware of it, Doll steps on his predecessor's path... Maybe they will meet.(Regular tag updates as this is a retranscription of an ongoing RP. You may see tags of characters/Relationships not mentionned in the chapters.)
Relationships: Doll & Lucie, Doll / Lucie, Lucie / Opal
Kudos: 1





	1. The swamp

It was a morning like the others, in the middle of this swamp, near the ocean. The air was chilly, wet, smelling like mud and faintly decomposed leaves. The two suns were spilling their warm light above the crystallized treetop, and life was starting to wake up.

The frogs didn’t expect this plush falling down in their sludgy water, appearing out of thin air.  
And even more, they didn’t expect it to squeal and throw their burning jacket away.  
When it started to look around, it was with a terrified look. Where were they? Why is there toads looking at them? How…?

“... H-how did I get here?...” he said out loud, looking at the amphibians.

Of course, these didn’t answer, getting back to their morning duty instead. The plush sighed shakily, shook its hand to try to get rid of the water inside it, and then got up.  
The noise from the frogs, the distant fishes, even the bugs flying around sounded so unreal to the wool boy. The view of green, alive, not menacing trees, with their roots hovering above the aqua surface before cutting right through looked like a dream to the wool boy. The scent, this weird scent of life blooming and fading in a natural way, felt like a relief to the wool boy.

“... By the parasites... I got out... I found a way out...”

He wasn’t in the middle of a giant blazing tornado. He wasn’t going to burn alive.  
Everything looks… Not aggressive. Not dangerous.

But he is still getting more and more wet, and even if he searches around with his eyes carefully, he doesn’t see any path to step on.  
Furthermore, he thinks that he saw a glimpse of a little flame…  
His internal, now usual, but very intense fear taking over again, he starts to walk. Not like he knows where he is going, but moving always meant survival to him, and surviving is… His only objective now.

A few hours of walking have passed. His fear, his need of survival drives him further.  
Now marching along a calm, muddy river, he crossed his arms on his naked woolly torso, which, even with the sunlight, is suffering from the wet and fresh air. A bit further, he could hear the faint rumbling of a sea and its salty, inexorable waves were sending to him the odor of seaweed. He would soon be trapped by these two water spots, but maybe he’ll encounter a bridge on his way? If even this place is inhabited by builders…  
But fate decided not to be kind with him. As the only moving sun was high up in the sky, he reaches the end, the corner of the ocean and the river. Crap, the only way to maybe pass this river is to walk all the way back…  
No choice. The boy turns around, and follows the river in the other direction.

He found a path earlier. A nice, dried path, leading through the mangrove, and moreover… A bridge to cross the river safely.  
Just after it, hanging from the crystallized branches, are dangling dream-catchers, little animal bones, skulls, and feathers. The wind is animating them softly, some of them hitting each-other, making a feeble chorus of xylophones from the highs.  
It catches the lost boy’s attention, and he watches this strange grim ballet with… Curiosity.  
Although normal people would get scared of it, the plush somehow is interested by these. His legs almost move by their own when he crosses the wooden, mossy bridge and stars to follow the eerie path.

Soon, life started to vanish. The trees were becoming darker, their leaves were becoming fewer, then just weren’t there anymore.  
The little young feels a hint of fear finally rising in his chest, as pinkish fog starts to hide the ground and curl around his feet. The sound of frogs is not filling the air anymore, just his muffled steps, and the bones hitting each-other above his head are avoiding the blank silence.  
The pink will’o-the-wisps were spawning more frequently, like if they were observing him. And each time one appears and vanishes, the plush jumps, scared. But somehow, it doesn’t stop him from getting further into the dead woods.

A tent. So someone lives here? Maybe they would be able to help him?  
As he approaches, the fog starts to move of its own around him, slightly, forming a silent pink vortex around his legs.  
And suddenly, an eye pierced trough the darkness inside.

“Huh, h-hello?”

His dusty, rusty voice asked to the pink eye, which narrowed suddenly.

“W-who?… You are not him… You are not them… Are you here for a curse? A sacrifice? Perhaps a potion?”

A feminine, yet aggressive voice answered to him. The boy gets scared, looking to this eye light in the dark.  
But he still manages to answer.

“N-not him? Not w-who?”


	2. How it feels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucie lets Doll following her to her secret garden, but they are interrupted there by a crystal skeleton...
> 
> WARNING : Graphical description of violence here. Read this chapter at your owns risks.

“Urgh, do you really want to not rest? Either you rest, or either you come with me, but in any case don't be useless weight!”

Says Lucie, snarling eagerly to him, as he looks silently at her only pinkish eye light.

Doll feels her anger with as strength as if he got hit by a truck at 75 mph. He suddenly gets up, as a wave of panic rises again in response.

She sees it, and a smile, a devilish one, as creepy as she could make it look, cuts her face in two halves.

“Now follow, and don't make a sound.”

Soon, her, her long wings and her bag are out the tent.

The wool boy shakes his head with violence. He felt so… Scared, terribly scared of her, for a second. And he shouldn't. Because she was nice to him, when he was desperate and unable to understand what happened to him.

He turns around and grabs his own bag, before following her out.

Immediately, the freezing night air strikes him.

Crap, he should have at least picked up his jacket earlier…

Lucie turns around to him, as he follows her farther in the mangrove while crossing his arms on his torso in a noneffective way to warm himself.

“… Hush- I hate saying that but… I still don't want you to completely die out of hypothermia.”

The harpy-like skeleton looks at a clip on her hips, which is holding some sort of cape hiding the back of her legs. With an agile finger gesture, she frees it, and, as if she did it for a few millennia, it swiftly lands on top his shoulders with a single throw.

It covers Doll’s arms and back, and fits on him like if it was meant for his rather thin stature. Even if its pink color and the small crystals decorating its sewed borders are not matching Doll’s appearance…

It is comfortable to wear, warm enough to help him endure the night and soft like the fluffy duvet inside a bird’s nest.

The plush looks up to the harpy to thank, but she isn’t looking back, narrowing her attention on the path they are on.

His own button eyes slides back on the path.

Of course he wasn’t intended. He wasn’t supposed to be in this world in the first place…

Luckily, Doll can’t see Lucie’s look.

Her only eye is filling with pure hate.

“I still hate you, get your hands off of me!”

Lucie growls, trying to get away from the new monster, but… Either she is incredibly weak, or either he is keeping her close with a grip of rough stone.

Doll doesn’t know what to do. He is drowning in pure terror at the look of this crystal man, and he feels like his mind is paralyzed.

“You should go away. Right now. I don’t care if it's night or if you might get lost, understood? I don't want you approaching her ever again.”

As the crystal guy says this, the witch’s necklace, a pink upside-down heart made out of crackled crystal, starts to shine. Its wielder blinks, looking suddenly exhausted, as if she was put into a lethargic state. Soon she is silently leaning on her captor’s bust.

But Doll is still unable to move an inch.

Is it because he is overloaded with terror?

Or is it because he feels otherwise?

But what otherwise?

“… _Lucie… M-my name was Lucie…”_

“ _You knew another "me", right?…”_

“ _Yes… But it's in the past now and I don't want to have anything to do with_ Him _.”_

His mind snaps back to reality.

She gave him her name, something very precious…

And his doubts were confirmed by her name.

But he is not _Him_ , he thought at that time. He is not _Him_!

He is not a hero, At all! Screams his eyes now, the beautiful, colorful flowers of her hidden garden peacefully observing the scene. He is just a lost guy who wished to escape his fate! _Why_ should he feel otherwise?!

But he feels otherwise.

The harpy’s sleepy voice rises again.

“Go… Please go away Doll. Try to go to town and don't come back…”

“Even _she_ agrees with me. Now go, before one of my tentacles accidentally rips you in half.”

And Doll doesn’t answer at all. He can’t. He would have answered if his throat wasn’t hurting this much. He would have moved if he could force control over his legs.

“MOVE!”

The crystal skeleton’s tentacle slashes right in front of the plush’s face. A few more inches, and he was done…

He steps sideways, eyes wide open, but still doesn’t obey to the injunction.

And he gets shoved away in the dense fog surrounding the garden.

Not the same fog as before… Less lively, more… Deadly, perhaps.

Wait. It _hurts_.

_The fog hurts._

“Ghh-”

No, not pain, _not again_!

As he feels every single string of wool making his skin disintegrating slowly, pure panic, a flood of memories, terrible, gruesome ones violently surges his mind.

Danger, the smell of uncontrolled fire, the feeling of damp, obscure caves, the urge to escape all that…

The cats…

He manages to get up and vacillates trough the acid smog, his eyes now running blind.

Before one of them just falls, no strings to retain it to its place left.

_Crap._

Doll turns his head back to where he thinks the button has fell, but he only sees silhouette of crocodiles, when he can see them.

He turns back, and accelerates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got 100 more words in this chapter than in the last one! I'm happy~
> 
> Fell free to tell me if there is any mistakes in there... Thank you so much for reading!


	3. The Bride and her bouquet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doll encounters a statue in the middle of a village, while he is half dying of freezing. What can possibly go wrong?

The night is already deep on the village, darkness everywhere, as the only lights managing to pierce it are the two crystallized moons. The snowflakes falling from the sky hovers to the ground as small cold shooting stars, shining back the astral luminescence at no-one’s eyes.

Except at this only eye, made out of a plastic button colored in washed teal.

Doll’s left eye.

The boy looks around, hidden in the shadows, but there’s no-one to ask for help here. It seems the village is as desert as a sinister graveyard.

The freezing air catches him again, throughout the pink poncho Lucie left to him, and the chills intensifies furthermore.

He doesn’t know what to do.

Walking up the paved street, he observes the black, devoid of movement windows, trying to get a glimpse of all but this death – like calm. But he only sees absolutely nothing.

His fists tightens, and his thin fingers presses more against the two objects he is holding in his right hand. The button of his now blind right eye - luckily, Lucie’s poncho caught it when it fell - , and this strange stone on a chain. A tear-shaped jade jewel, cut in two halves with a giant crack, and encrusted with two smaller stones looking like black ink drops.

“ _Don't put it on. Except if you want to be trapped in this world.”_

Said Lucie, earlier, when she accepted him in her tent for a few hours.

And he saw what effect could have this kind of stones on their owners.

A humming reaches his ears.

A humming? Is someone there?

It comes from the place at the end of this street. As Doll looks up to it, a gust of cold wind makes him blink and sneeze.

But the sound is still here.

Not a mirage.

He doesn't ask more, and turns his steps towards the little place.

Soon, he arrives on a circular place, paved – although a thin layer of snow now cover the gray stones. In the center of it, on top of a pedestal, a statue.

No, not one made of stone like normal, classic statues, no.

This one is made of a glittering matter under the moons’ light, almost like if it was smoothed ice. It represents a bride holding a bouquet of flowers to the sky, as her dress leads the water pouring from the veil in the round base around her.

But Doll sees no-one on this desert place.

And the humming, a lullaby, is still here, hardly distinguishable from the muffled sound of the cold wind and the snow it carries. Although it comes from everywhere and one point at the same time.

The stone plaque, engraved with shining letters, in front of the statue.

Doll can’t help but feel curious, and approaches the magic object.

Leaning his hands on it, he looks up to the figure a second, wondering if the tune actually comes from her.

And when he looks back at the engraved stone, he reads what is written on it – with much difficulties.

A song. It’s a song.

The tune surrounding him is so catching, he mumbles the tree last lines in choir with the whistle.

Being watched over.

He looks to the statue again, eye filled with fear. Which quickly vanishes, showing instead a hint of… Understanding.

The plush looks back at the plaque, waits a bit, and then… Tries to sing.

“ **M-my body is frozen-** ”

Crap. His voice sounds like a dying crow.

But the invisible eyes tell him to continue anyway.

“ **M-my soul is warped**

**My hearts made of stone**

**That diamond in the rough.**

**The winter winds are calling**

**Twinkling in the glass made ice**

**"Come play with us" it sings**

**In a child's voice**

**But my body does not move**

**For it is frozen**

**My soul does not respond**

**for it is warped**

**My heart does not beat**

**for it is stone**

**But I still watch the child.**

**Dancing and singing**

**There they come and call to me again**

**But once more I refuse**

**"They cannot play" They now sing**

**"The statues only watch us,"**

**"Their bodies buried beneath!"**

**More children join as they dance around me.**

**And as always I watch from my place.**

**A simple stone statue.**

**That marks my frozen grave.** ”

A soft sound starts. As Doll looks up again, one hand on his now hurting throat, he sees water pouring from where it is not supposed to.

The bouquet is melting away.

Wait. No, not the bouquet. The ice hull covering it.

Now, lighten up by the moonlight, stands a perfectly fine, fresh, lively bouquet, made out of white and blue conic blooming blossoms, a bit agitated by the cold, freezing wind.

_Thank you._

And everything stops.

The tune fades away, the plaque looks normal again, and the statue stays like this, holding its bouquet.

Doll makes a few steps back, looking up again at it.

Is it some imprisoned bride in a shell of ice?…

But the cold air hits him, and soon he looks around again, seeking for any possible help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Best poetry-breaking summary ever. Yes, I admit it.
> 
> If you see any mistakes, i'd love if you told me! And as always, thank you for reading. :D

**Author's Note:**

> This is from a rp.  
> If you see mistakes, please tell me where they are, thank you so much!


End file.
